The Good News

Psalm 146

January 15, 2017

Eight years ago, on the Sunday prior to inauguration day, I preached a sermon entitled “Inaugurating Hope.” I was, I confess, tempted to call this morning’s homily “Inaugurating Fear.”

But then I recalled that on that Sunday in January, 2009, I noted the same Psalm we recited together moments ago, with its timeless reminder that the plans of princes and presidents are, like those of all mortals, as fleeting as breath. We did not elect a messiah in November, 2008, nor in November, 2016. We did not elect a savior or, even, a ruler.

Indeed, last fall we elected a frail and broken human being to the office of chief executive; just as this nation has done 44 times before. So, no matter whom you voted for, whom you longed for, whom you feared, or whom you loathed, hear this good news: 

“Happy are those whose help is the God of Jacob, whose hope is in the Lord their God, who made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that is in them.”

There is more than enough fearfulness in our current context, but there is also more than more than enough good news.

As I have noted and will continue to note throughout this 500^th anniversary year of the beginning of the Protestant Reformation, we are living through a period of rapid and fundamental change whose breadth, depth, and speed would have shocked Martin Luther. The week which sees the peaceful transfer of power in the country that proudly calls itself the world oldest democracy is the perfect time to acknowledge that political systems around the world are in turmoil and flux, and democracy is threatened on many fronts.

When voting rights are under assault in dozens of states, big money dominates our politics at all levels, and voters reject one party’s nominee for president because they don’t trust her while electing a man whose own ethics are, at the very least, highly questionable, it’s not difficult to see why many feel that democracy is also threatened right here at home.

The news from across the river this week has been almost uniformly ugly – even tawdry. It is also deeply troubling. I cannot see any of it as good, and it portends a challenging season to come. To the extent possible, I do not make that assessment as a proud liberal, but rather as a committed citizen. The state of the nation’s politics is not good.

I could point the finger at particular contemporary politicians, but, instead, let’s point back a ways – a long ways – and place some blame on Martin Luther, himself. For, you see, there was always a shadow side to the impulses given voice and power through the Reformation. As Texas writer Jonathan Malesic noted for Religion Dispatches this week,

“The sovereignty of individual conscience, awakened by Reformation-era distrust of knowledge experts backed by political power, was an essential component of the revolutions that created modern democracy. But that same sovereignty [of individual conscience] now threatens to fracture our democratic polity. Seemingly every sphere of knowledge expertise—science, the news media, and even the national intelligence services—is currently distrusted by those on the political right. They have ridden that distrust to power on every level of government.”[1]

In other words, if you say that “God alone is Lord of the conscience,” you may just open the door to the inevitable argument that one perspective is as valid as another no matter the foundation or lack thereof, no matter what powerful institution supports any particular perspective on any given matter.

Nevertheless, even though Reformation impulses have their shadow sides, the good news remains: we have in those same impulses great resources for the present time; those resources also provide guidance to the church in its contemporary circumstance. In other words, we have what we need to do the work to which we are called, and that is very good news, indeed.

Let’s take a look. In fact, let’s start with that foundational principle of Presbyterian polity, articulated prior to the founding general assembly of our predecessor denomination way back in 1788: “God alone is Lord of the conscience, and hath left it free from the doctrines and commandments of men [sic] which are in anything contrary to his [sic] Word, or beside it, in matters of faith or worship.”

That principle led our Presbyterian forebears to proclaim abiding support of religious freedom, and to the separation of church and state. It also led them to place deep faith in the power of people to make decisions through processes that guaranteed protection to minority voices while assuring that the majority will govern the body.

All of that, it seems to me, continues to make good sense. But notice the appeal is not merely to individual human conscience, but, rather, to God. Thus it matters deeply how we understand the Divine.

Having begun with Psalm 146, let’s return to that text. What is the nature of the God in whom we are to put our trust? The psalmist proclaims that God is the one

who keeps faith for ever;
   who executes justice for the oppressed;
   who gives food to the hungry.
who sets the prisoners free;
   who opens the eyes of the blind.
who lifts up those who are bowed down;
   who loves the righteous.
who watches over the strangers;
   and upholds the orphan and the widow.

If that is the God who is the lord of individual conscience then justice, human freedom, liberation, and well-being seem to be God’s priorities. In the gospels, we see these priorities made flesh in the person of Jesus. As we contemporary Presbyterians confess in our Brief Statement of Faith, this “Jesus proclaimed the reign of God: preaching good news to the poor and release to the captives, teaching by word and deed and blessing the children, healing the sick and binding up the brokenhearted, eating with outcasts, forgiving sinners, and calling all to repent and believe the gospel.”

The church is called to give flesh to that same calling in its own time. This side of the beloved community, the reign of God is always incomplete, thus the prophetic role of the church, in every time and place, is to call political leaders to account when their policies or behaviors do note advance the cause of justice, freedom, liberation, and human well-being. The prophetic role of the church is the resist all that stands against that cause, and to stand in solidarity with those who are victims of injustice, whose well-being is under threat.

This prophetic role is not merely that of critic. We are not the ones who simply complain about the plumbing in, oh, I don’t know, places like Flint, perhaps. We are the ones charged with calling for justice to roll down like a mighty water. We are not called to complain about the flatness of the bread, but rather to be its leaven. We are not called to note the darkness and be bitter, but rather to be a light in the darkness.

In other words, we are called to give voice to a vision of hope, and to call power to bear upon that vision. We are not called to complain about the leader’s lack of vision; we are called to provide the vision for where there is no vision the people perish.

We have some difficult days ahead of us, but we have, also, a great gift to offer: the gift of love. For what else is our ultimate calling as followers of Jesus than to offer to the world our love?

I find the confluence of Inauguration Day and the King Day holiday instructive. In the days just before we witness the transfer of American power, we celebrate our finest critic of that power. Dr. King understood well the difficult weave of power, justice, and love. As he said toward the end of his life, “What is needed is a realization that power without love is reckless and abusive, and love without power is sentimental and anemic. Power at its best is love implementing the demands of justice, and justice at its best is power correcting everything that stands against love.”

Followers of Jesus in every moment are called to exercise just such power as we work to do justice, to make peace, to welcome the stranger and care for the least of these our neighbors, to bind up the broken, to comfort the brokenhearted, and to love one another always.

This remains our calling, and our present circumstance demands renewed vigor and focus such that we recognize in this moment the kairos time of God’s eternal hope, that we give that hope voice and substance, and that, hearts filled with God’s hope, we lift every voice and sing.

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[1]  (http://religiondispatches.org/suspicion-of-experts-on-the-right-is-martin-luthers-fault/?utm_source=Religion+Dispatches+Newsletter&utm_campaign=2692d04be8-RD_Daily_Newsletter&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_742d86f519-2692d04be8-42411801)